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25 thoughts on “lust poem no.31”

Mija (a term of affection in espanol), You’ve got to find some way to skip over these damned Mondays. They show up so often with sad, drawn-out faces, and memories floating likes ghosts without a home. I often tell people that I wish I had a time machine so I could back and undo whatever brought me to my present problem, but in this case, I’d lend my time machine to you to skip ahead to a day where this is all just a wistful memory, a knowing chuckle to the self, a wry punchline. There is so much more ahead for you than there is behind you. You write about love gone wrong so well, but I think as an artist, you must stretch yourself, challenge yourself and look for gentle joyfulness, peaceful contentment and the occasional flesh-on-flesh communion that will bring an involuntary smile, against the canvas of a loving and comforting embrace. Make no mistake, this is not criticism of your writing (of which I am an unabashed devotee), but rather a plea, a wish for the magic of spring, the promise of everything anew, to sneak into your heart and send the darkness away, for a while.

it weighs like the hesitation
in her eyes that he
can’t see….dang, that is where you jerked the hook and reeled me in….nice….and after that it is like stacatto bursts…like the play with like…and then the un-s…whole lot of feeling in this one as well joanna…like…want to hear it…